


Summer Pornathon 2009 Anthology

by kickflaw



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-17
Updated: 2010-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickflaw/pseuds/kickflaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11 individual works for the 2009 Summer Pornathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Pornathon 2009 Anthology

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to do this since sometime last summer, so naturally it took me until now to actually sit down and make it happen. By this, I'm referring to collecting my entries for the 2009 Summer Pornathon and posting them in my own journal. I haven't done much editing, partly because I'm lazy and partly because I think it's interesting to see how my writing has progressed since last summer. Some of these I could easily have written yesterday, others I'm not so keen on. -.- But regardless, here they are.
> 
> More notes found within.

Summer Pornathon 2009 Anthology

**Challenge One: Dialogue Only**

Thoughts: Definitely not a favorite. Not a big fan of dialogue-only fics, they got old after the first one I read. I don't know why I had to make it harder on myself by limiting it to only one side of dialogue AND no action, but I did, so there you go.

**My Noble Lips**

"—hunn? ...Merlin? Wha...what're you doing? It's the middle of the night."

"..."

"Don't just wave your arms at me, I'm—oh, for fuck's sake, hold on. Get a candle lit and bring me some water."

"..."

"Right. Now, tell me what the problem is. Has anyone been injured?"

"…"

"Speak, don't flail! Is this some kind of demented game? Have your wits completely left you?"

"...!"

"Ack—don't—all right, all right! I'll play along. Go ahead with your...gestures."

"..."

"You can't speak, yes, I gathered that."

"..."

"You...were whistling? Someone else was whistling, and it took your voice? No, no. Wait, slow down. Again."

"..."

"You need me to whistle your voice back? I don't see how—no?"

"..."

"A kiss! That's—you know, Merlin, no one actually kisses with their lips puckered up like that. For future reference."

"..."

"_I _ have to kiss you? I'm not going to do that, that's disgusting! No."

"...!"

"Stop doing that! Why does it have to be—royalty. Right. And of course you can't ask my father, that would be suicide, even though you're clearly just the victim of some sick sorcery here. Why would a sorcerer bother with _your _ voice, I wonder? Perhaps it's a friendly sorcerer, someone trying to make my life easier by ridding me of your constant nattering?"

"..."

"No, we'll find someone else. A visiting princess. I wonder if Morgana would count..."

"..."

"No!"

"..."

"Ugh. Fine. Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible, and then we'll never speak of it again. Lean down, yes—no! Not on the bed, that's—just stay as far away as possible, ok?"

"..."

"It didn't work? Are you sure this is what you need?"

"..."

"A longer kiss, then? That peck was hardly anything. Here..."

"..."

"Still nothing, what the hell?"

"..."

"I'm not kissing you with tongue, Merlin. No, no, no."

"...!"

"It's far too early for this. Fuck. You promise, absolutely swear, that this never leaves this room? Ok, come here, let me—all right, sit on the bed. Yeah, and just...tilt your head like this and I'll...and..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...ah..."

"...mmm..."

"Arthur..."

"...uh, haa, that's—"

"...yessss, right, oh!"

"Merlin...mm...wait, ah—Merlin! You can speak."

"Yes, well-spotted, thank you, can we just—"

"The sacrifice of my noble lips returned your voice, and you—ah!"

"Arthur?"

"...yeah?"

"Shut up now."

END

* * *

**Challenge Two: First Time**

Thoughts: I actually like this one. Probably because shaving is a huge kink of mine that I don't think gets enough attention, so I was glad to write some. Warning, this is probably not the most historically accurate thing ever written. Also, blades against skin, but no bloodplay. :D

**Close Shave: A First Time Depilatory Odyssey**

"If you cut me, we're done here. Just so you know," said Merlin.

Arthur made an infuriatingly noncommittal sound and lifted Merlin's leg out of the bathtub and over his knee. Merlin watched through the steam as he massaged the kingdom's best soap in his hands, smoothed lather up Merlin's leg, and picked up the newly-sharpened straight blade procured for just this purpose.

"Do we have to?" he tried, one last time.

"Shut up and let me enjoy this," Arthur said.

Arthur always went along with Merlin's ideas, so Merlin shut up and focused on the sharp scent of soap, the kind he never got to use, on the dark splotch that was spreading on Arthur's breeches where Merlin's calf rested, on Arthur's hand, unwavering as he brought the knife down—cold shock—and sliced the blade along Merlin's shin, over his knee very slowly, and up, up his thigh, so high Merlin cringed back a little.

"Don't fidget," Arthur murmured, wiping foam and hair away on a towel.

"I still don't—"

"As I've explained a hundred times, Merlin, Morgana does this regularly," said Arthur, distant rather than irritated. He was staring at the gleaming, hairless line he'd created on Merlin's body.

Merlin bit his lip; Arthur looked so—intent. Quiet and still as he was on a hunt. The hand he curved around Merlin's ankle was shaking slightly, but his other hand shaved another long line of hair away without so much as a twitch.

It was nice, kind of, to lie in Arthur's tub up to his chin in hot water, and let Arthur do this strange thing to him. Nice to be the absolute center of Arthur's attention, to know that he, his body, was the cause of Arthur's increasingly rapid breath. After a while the hard metal became more familiar, less alarming. Merlin shifted his limbs as Arthur needed, twisting so the razor could slide up the back of his thigh, switching sides so Arthur could lift his other leg and begin again. Water flowed around his bare skin and Merlin shivered, the combination of sensation—steady _shick_ of the blade, cool air, hot water, heady clinging soap, vulnerability—and Arthur's intensity rendering him near-stupid with arousal.

Not once did Arthur slip. He dropped the knife when the last bit of hair was gone—loud and startling clatter—and trailed trembling fingers across Merlin's knee.

"God—" Arthur leaned down, pressed his face against Merlin's calf, and mouthed frantic kisses there.

"Arthur," Merlin said, reaching for him.

Arthur pulled Merlin out of the tub and kissed him, oblivious to the water streaming onto his clothing, down his wrists from his grip on Merlin's hair. They stumbled towards the bed but only made it to the table, Merlin shoving the candlesticks out of the way when Arthur pushed him up and tugged his legs open, running his hands up and down, up and down while Merlin jerked at the stubborn, damp laces hiding Arthur's cock. When they came free Arthur brought Merlin's leg close, rubbed the head into his hairless flesh.

"Merlin," he said. "Fuck."

"Give me..." Merlin said; Arthur passed him the oil and watched, pupils blown wide, cock smearing precome along the white length of Merlin's inner thigh, as Merlin thrust fingers into himself, one, two, three.

"Fuck me," Merlin snapped finally. "Shit, Arthur, just—"

"Yeah, let me..." Arthur whipped his shirt off and grabbed Merlin's legs again, wrapped them around his naked torso, "Keep your legs tight, yeah?" and pushed hard inside.

Merlin sank back against the table, groaning. Arthur's pace was brutal, opened him up so much, filled him so right. Merlin was already arching, fighting the hand Arthur placed on his chest to keep him from bucking too hard and choking out reverent, dirty words, fisting his own cock desperately. Pleasure rose through him, coiling hot bolts from the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers, until he couldn't hold it in anymore and it exploded out of his body like a lightning strike.

Arthur fucked Merlin through it, cock still perfect-fast up in him, wringing out little bursts of agonizing pleasure that made his hole clench. Panting, Merlin bore down and stroked one leg up Arthur's back, the other down low over his arse, frictionless slide still new and strange. Arthur dropped to his elbows with a grunted, "Fuck," and came, open-mouthed and shuddering.

END

* * *

**Challenge Three: Alternate Universe**

Thoughts: Jeez. I really liked this at the time? Now it just makes me shrug. I'm not sure if that's a product of a genuine dislike for it, or of my new and growing distaste for AUs in general. I wrote, like, three versions of this originally. One was their first meeting at the ozashiki, and another was basically just plotless porn with kimonos. I went with this one because I was able to combine both the details of Japanese culture, which I find fascinating, and the porny bits. Warning: some voyeurism.

**The Skit**

Merlin has served as a [_taikomochi_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taikomochi) to the Pendragon family for years now, ever since that fateful night at his first ozashiki, when he pulled the daimyo's son from the path of a ninja's shurikan, and as doboshu to Arthur for nearly as long. He and Arthur have never had a typical relationship; their closeness, Arthur's favoritism, Merlin's loyalty, have caused whispers. Even so, the mood of a party has never taken them so far before.

Merlin is familiar with the skit, of course. He's still uncomfortable, it's not his nature to play and flirt like this, like a beautiful geisha vying for bids. This isn't how he and Arthur interact, isn't a boundary they've tread, and Merlin is wondering if maybe they were wrong to ignore the rumors, because suddenly everything feels knife-sharp and dangerous. His heart is racing: Arthur's jaw is tense as he pulls Merlin into the parody of an embrace.

"Surely I have paid for your services," Arthur says.

"My lord," Merlin retorts, twisting coyly, "I'm afraid you mistake my purpose. I am here to enter-t-tain!" He squeaks out the last bit; Arthur's hand is very obviously groping his arse.

Gawain laughs. "Do be still, Merlin, we all know that your service to Arthur doesn't end when the guests retire."

"How dearly I wish it," says Arthur. There's an odd quality to his voice that makes Merlin want to search him through, open him up and know his heart fully, know if it means—

The skit requires that he give in. Proof that some taikomochi will do anything to please their masters. "Oh, but," Merlin bites his lip, "here, sire? It is—"

"Here. Now."

The audience gossips, laughs and drinks hot sake. Arthur rolls him onto his back in the cushions, and Merlin lets his legs fall open, feeling horribly exposed and flayed raw from sudden fierce desire. Arthur mimics the thrust of penetration against Merlin's hips, and Merlin can feel his cock, hot and hard. Arthur's hands cup Merlin's face, eyes serious. A promise hovers at the corners of his mouth.

Merlin fumbles through the rest of the night. In the early hours of the morning Arthur drags Merlin away, down the halls, into his bedroom.

"Merlin, tell me," Arthur says, backing him towards his futon. "Tell me we are. We can."

Merlin snaps the ties of Arthur's haori and says, "We are," slides Arthur's robes away from his broad chest and says, "We can."

They strip in a rush, not taking care with the delicate silks. Merlin's kimono crumples on the floor, sure to be wrinkled and revealing in the daylight. Merlin kisses Arthur for the first time with his whole body, a naked press of lips and flesh that puts them both on their knees. Kisses, open-mouthed slick kisses full of wet tongue, pass between them as Arthur's hair passes through Merlin's fingers: tightly-wound and with a strange sense of _finally_.

Arthur strokes his fingers against Merlin's nipples enough for Merlin's gasps to break them apart, then rolls them over like before, Merlin nipping his lip and baring his inner thighs. Arthur's mouth is red, open around hard breaths as he touches everything—Merlin's neck, shoulders, fluttering abdomen, hipbones, knees, his odd, long feet. Merlin shudders when Arthur's fingers rub at his hole.

"Something—?" he asks.

"No, I don't—"

"Here, then." Merlin tugs, shimmies, pulls until Arthur is straddling his head, cock dripping precome onto Merlin's chin. Merlin licks it away and then licks Arthur's wet slit, catching the rest and sucking the head into his mouth. The angle is awkward but he takes as much as he can, and Arthur's caught on, bending over to suck the head of Merlin's cock too.

The sensation, hot, clumsy, perfect—Merlin has to focus on the taste and scent of Arthur's cock, heavy all around him. He digs his head into the futon, arches his neck, gets another two inches inside. Arthur bucks down and he chokes a little but it's so, so good. Merlin swallows and swallows, gasping for breath when he can. The give and take is overwhelming; he's bucking too, Arthur's bracing his hands on Merlin's thighs to keep him down, but he can't because Merlin's going to pieces, shooting strings of seed into Arthur's mouth. Merlin's gasp-slackened mouth slides off Arthur's cock just as Arthur follows, spilling his orgasm over Merlin's face and chest.

Merlin falls asleep in Arthur's embrace, tangled as the red strings of destiny, tightening around them.

END

* * *

**Challenge Four: Fluff **

Thoughts: Still enjoy this one, despite being a terrible fluff writer. I don't even enjoy reading fluff! Nevertheless, this is the only "# of times they, but..." fic I've ever written, and it was quite a bit of fun. Plus, awkward!sex always pleases me.

**Five Times Arthur and Merlin Tried to Fuck and Ended Up Making Love Instead**

1 –

"Oh, fuck, fuck, mmm, harder—" Merlin panted.

"Ah, yeah," Arthur pulled Merlin's legs further apart, snapping his hips into Merlin's hole as deep as he could.

"Oh, oh," Merlin made such pleasing little sounds, "oh! Ow! Fuck, ow! Get—" Merlin shoved him off and rolled onto his side, hands clamped on his hip.

"What?" Arthur demanded. "What happened?"

"My hip is cramping," Merlin hissed.

Arthur's cock was getting cold; he rolled Merlin over onto his stomach and worked it back inside, where it was hot and slick and perfect again, and this time Merlin wouldn't have to bend all funny to let Arthur fill him up, wouldn't bloody interrupt.

(This time Merlin wouldn't feel any pain at all.)

2 –

"Touch me. Now," Arthur commanded.

Merlin left the breakfast tray on the table and went to the bed, yanked the covers away from Arthur's naked body. Admired for a moment. Still rumpled and warm, sleepy-hard, Arthur was beautiful. Like always.

Merlin palmed Arthur's knees, placed a kiss on Arthur's inner thigh, and slid his hands downwards, over Arthur's shins, cupping fragile ankles and then Arthur's feet, hard calluses under the tips of his fingers.

Arthur jerked hard. "N-no!"

Glee filled Merlin. "You're ticklish!"

"No, I'm—"

Arthur gasped all the way through his morning blowjob, mostly because Merlin couldn't resist stroking a thumb along the sole of Arthur's feet, making him twist up so prettily every time.

(Merlin could listen to Arthur's breathless laughter all day long.)

3 –

"Let me show you what magic is really good for," Merlin whispered into Arthur's ear, hot breath followed by tongue.

Arthur shivered, nodded, and found himself in midair, his clothes peeling away while Merlin stared at him with eyes that were literally burning. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never even imagined," Merlin promised.

"Oh, god," Arthur said. "Do it."

Merlin waved a hand and Arthur flew backwards onto the bed, tumbling at the force of it—his head hit a bedpost with a sickening crack. White light poured into his vision.

"Arthur!" Merlin was by him in a moment, inspecting Arthur's temple. "Are you ok?"

Arthur could already feel a bruise forming, possibly there was a small cut as well.

"You great clutz," Arthur snapped. "That's done it. I'm having you beheaded."

Infuriatingly, Merlin smiled. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."

Then Merlin kissed him, right over the wound, and Arthur felt his skin heal itself under Merlin's soft lips, felt the dizziness fade.

(At least, one kind of dizziness.)

4 –

"Have you come yet?" Merlin asked.

Arthur stopped thrusting and stared at him. "What?"

"I mean," Merlin didn't want to say exactly, it wasn't as if it wasn't good, but, "I mean—"

"Am I inconveniencing you, Merlin?" Arthur asked, and pushed his hips forward again. "Your hip isn't _cramping_, is it?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," snapped Merlin. "It's hot, ok? I can't breathe, and your _sweat_ just _dripped_ into my _mouth_.

Arthur wiped said sweat from his brow, frowning. It was a hot day, mid-summer sun blazing; Merlin had tried to tell him a picnic by the lake wasn't the best idea.

"Here," Merlin said. He dragged Arthur into the shallow waters where lake met land and rode him with his knees in the gritty silt and plants floating by.

(In the water, under the sky, over Arthur, Merlin felt something expand in his heart.)

5 –

It had been too long. The war had taken Arthur away and left Merlin behind, and every day, every day Arthur had longed for him, for his tight body and warm eyes.

They came together, bodies like storm clouds, fingers like strips of lightning burning away the clothing that kept them apart. Arthur felt electrocuted by Merlin's mouth, his blood was singing.

Merlin was murmuring stupid things into their kiss, things like, "never again," and "I can't," and "please," and Arthur had to have him.

He bent Merlin over the nearest surface and pushed inside, up, up, cock aching and hips frantic, some overwhelming _thing_ rising in his throat, bursting out—

"I love you," into the sweaty hollow between Merlin's shoulder-blades. "I love you so much, I—"

It had been too long. Arthur came too soon, too hard, but it didn't matter because Merlin was coming into his own hand, hole clenching around Arthur's softening cock, and it all felt right anyway.

Merlin turned over then, and said, "I love you, too."

(Forever.)

END

* * *

**Challenge Five: Food**

Thoughts: HANDS DOWN MY FAVORITE. Seriously, I don't even know why I love this so much. Maybe because I absolutely channeled my silly inner stoner into this, 100%. This is the only one that I kind of want to take and expand, or write a sequel, or something. ♥ Warning: Drug use.

**Salty and Sweet**

"I wonder what come tastes like," Merlin says.

The shock makes Arthur cough, let go of his hit, dark smoke unraveling from his mouth. "What?" he says hoarsely.

"Come," Merlin repeats. He's languid and long in the recliner, staring at the ceiling. "A guy's, I mean. I know what girls taste like. Yum."

Merlin's so ridiculous; _girls, yum_. Arthur laughs until he's coughing again, then says, "That's sick, man."

"I'm just curious," says Merlin. His hand, limp at the wrist, lifts in a strange, disconnected gesture. "You know? Is it salty? Is it bitter? Is it like yogurt or thinner, like...alfredo sauce?"

"Hungry," Arthur says, fights off his lethargy, and goes to the kitchen for a glass of Merlin's stupid soy milk and the package of Oreos he'd bought specially for this. _Oreos are great_, he thinks, tearing open the plastic with a pleasing crinkly sound, _best food ever. Genius. Smart marketing too, the milk thing. Builds strong bones in little kids and girls._

Merlin's gray couch shouldn't be as comfortable as it is given how many people have slept on it, and that it was a hand-me-down to begin with, but Arthur's feels like he's melting into it, stretching out on a cloud. He dunks an oreo in the milk and bites into it—falls in love.

"Aren't you curious?" Merlin asks, still on this _come_ thing.

"Nope," Arthur says, and because he wants Merlin to shut up and put some music on, maybe that visualizer they watched last time, he leers and continues, "I can think of a way to help you out, though."

Merlin finally looks at him, hazy but calling his bluff. "Oh yeah?"

What a joke, as if Merlin would actually—Arthur snakes a hand down his chest and gropes his cock through his trousers. "Yeah."

"Go on, then," says Merlin, smirking. "And pass me an oreo."

Arthur can't stand that smug little mouth, and he's stupidly high. He jerks open his button, pushes down his zip, and pulls out his cock, still mostly flaccid but a few light tugs bring him up to speed. It feels incredible. Why has he never done this while high before? It's ten times more amazing, every motion going through his whole body, like the first time all over again, eleven years old watching grainy porn on his Dad's telly late at night. He groans, gets into it, licking his palm and working his fist hard and tight.

"Hell," Merlin says.

Arthur had forgotten he was there, opens his eyes (when did he close them?) and meets Merlin's for a long, tense moment. His hand doesn't stop—can't stop.

Merlin tongue darts out over his lips. "I asked for an oreo," he says, and slides, fucking _slides_ off his recliner and crawls to the couch, right up to Arthur; he's kneeling between Arthur's spread legs, reaching for the oreo package at Arthur's side.

Merlin grabs a cookie, twists it apart with his bony fingers and crunches through the side that comes away without cream. Then he, oh hell, Arthur's hand pumps faster as Merlin slowly drags his tongue across the thick, white filling, moaning like a porn star.

Merlin keeps licking and Arthur keeps watching, brain drifting with crazy thoughts like _his lips are so full_ and _how wide can he open his mouth?_, until the cream is gone. Merlin dunks the bare side in Arthur's glass of milk, gets it really wet, and lets milk drip onto his tongue before he sucks the whole thing into his mouth and _swallows_.

Arthur bucks into his fist, says, "Fuck, shit, I'm coming—" and grabs Merlin by the back of the neck, pulling him down as the first wave of orgasm takes him under.

Arthur's come bursts sticky and thick onto Merlin's face, paints his cheeks with white lines. The sight sends another orgasmic shock through Arthur, more come welling out of his slit as he rubs the head of his cock against Merlin's lips. Merlin's looking at him, eyes wide, hands grasping Arthur's thighs.

"Open your mouth," Arthur says, letting go of his cock.

Merlin does; Arthur draws two fingers through the come on Merlin's face, slips them between Merlin's lips, and rubs the flavor against Merlin's wet tongue. Merlin closes his eyes and sucks them fully into his mouth with a "mmmm" that makes Arthur's cock twitch.

"How does it taste?" Arthur asks.

Merlin pulls off his fingers and grins. "Fucking terrible."

END

* * *

**Challenge Six: Interpretive Dance**

Thoughts: THIS. This is the only entry that I never got to post, because I got stuck at work that afternoon filling in for someone, and didn't get home in time, even though it was written. So this is actually the first time this one has seen the light of the internet, which is probably for the best, since it's basically just crack. Also, I think this may be the only entry that doesn't have any porn, or even any real allusion to porn. I like it, though. It makes me smile.

**Thriller**

"I think they're dancing," Merlin said.

Arthur scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. Zombies can't dance."

"No, really. They're definitely doing _something_."

"Shuffling?" Arthur offered sarcastically, not looking up from sharpening his sword.

Merlin scowled at him. "If you would just _look_ you might not be so sure of yourself."

Arthur looked up, or down rather, over the battlements at the hoards below. Sure enough, the zombies' movements were less flailing than before, more deliberate, and growing increasingly in sync. He frowned.

"Told you," said Merlin, blood-smeared face smug. Arthur ignored him, as usual.

Arthur said, "We need to inform my father."

*

Uther was not best pleased. Bad enough that his castle was overrun with hysterical, dirty villagers, that food and water reserves were running low, that Camelot was _under siege by the undead_, now the blasted creatures were, what? Grouping together? Planning? How long before they learned to climb the very walls?

"Damn it!" he yelled, banging his fist on the table. "I want them dead already!"

"They are dead," Merlin said.

Uther shot him a withering glare. "Gone. Whatever."

"We're trying, my lord," said Arthur. "There are just so many. We're vastly outnumbered—and every one of us that falls means another added to the enemy forces."

"Bloody sorcerers!" seethed Uther, unhelpfully.

"Maybe magic—" Merlin began to say.

"Let's go!" Arthur interrupted, "many weapons to tend, you know. Hup hup!" and hustled Merlin out of the throne room.

*

"They're definitely dancing," Arthur said later, when they were back on the high walls, safely ensconced within Arthur's bristling circle of too-sharp blades.

"I told you," Merlin said again. Arthur ignored him. Again.

"But to what?" pondered Arthur. "It certainly looks like no dance I've ever seen."

Merlin listened to the ululating moans of the walking corpses carried on the rot-scented wind. Eventually he said, "I think it's interpretive."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of what?"

"I don't know," said Merlin. "Their groans? The eternal pain of their undying existence? It's looks awfully...awful."

"Thrilling," Arthur said. His whetstone scraped down another thinning dagger.

*

Somewhere dank and oppressive Nimueh raged at her scrying bowl, clutching the rim until her putrefied fingers creaked.

"Climb!" she shrieked. "I said _climb_, not dance, you idiots! Aaagh!"

She should never have brought the rest back with her.

*

Eventually Arthur fell asleep, which was a bad. He was on guard duty—though he considered it more guarding Merlin than guarding against rampant, flesh-hungry zombies, and for good reason. When he awoke it was to the sound of Merlin's low chant and the painfully bright glow emanating from his blank gaze.

"Merlin!" Arthur snapped. "For fuck's sake, you stupid—"

"...cu thad!" Merlin intoned. There was a bright flash of light in the distance, where Arthur presumed the center of the undead hoard was. The light rippled through the zombie waves, dropping them in concentric circles. The sound of thudding bodies rumbled like thunder in the sky. Arthur watched until the last of the former citizens had collapsed into decomposing heaps, and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the first silence they'd had in weeks.

"What were you saying?" Merlin asked with a tired, teasing grin.

"Fool," said Arthur. His hands were covered in scrapes, nicks from his incessant weapon-tending. There was blood under his fingernails. He cupped Merlin's face anyway, pressed their sweaty foreheads together.

"You're just jealous," Merlin murmured. "I defeated the dancing zombies while you snored like a babe."

"Please shut up," Arthur said. "You're an imbecile, and you make my life miserable."

He didn't mean it.

(Then they kissed.)

END

* * *

**Challenge Seven: Genderbend**

Thoughts: I made the worse typo when I submitted this one. A typo that has haunted me since, and which I am glad to have corrected in this post. ARGH. I wanted to SCREAM when I saw it. But anyway, I still rather like this one. I like the plot/idea behind it mostly, a way for them to have a happy ending. :D

**Marry**

_Arthur said, "I must marry."_

*

Merlin wasn't afraid. Magic surged around him with tidal force, called up by words stronger and more ancient than Gaius's book could have held. Merlin had brought this magic down from the skies, out of the ground, from the center of himself, and he would put it to its purpose no matter the pain. He'd been warned about the pain.

He was not afraid.

_For Arthur_.

*

For Arthur, all of Merlin. Merlin loved with the kind of fierce emotion that put bards and their ballads to shame. For Arthur, Merlin would do anything.

*

_ "I cannot—" Arthur said._

Merlin rose from the tangled sheets, his heart clenching in warning.

"We cannot be—" Arthur swallowed. "I love you, I love you, Merlin, I do, but—"

*

The scream that tore from his throat was entirely beyond his control. The change took him from the inside out, shredding, twisting, remaking. He hung suspended for a moment in a cloud of wet blood, then everything sucked back again, folded up as neatly as Gwen's tidy linens inside him. Inside—

Her.

*

_Arthur said, "I will not be an adulterer."_

*

Changing her sex wasn't the hard part. It took far more energy and effort to establish her existence in the minds of Cendred's court. Subtle, fragile magic that needed absolute delicacy to perform, and time, always time. Wealth she could summon aplenty, but to alter the memories of so many, memories extending years backwards—that was the tricky bit. Anyway so many months already had passed, what were a few more?

*

_"What would you have us do then?" Merlin demanded. "When you marry? Live on without? Live a lie, always wanting, never having, memories alone to sustain us?"_

"If we must, if I...but you should be happy. I will not—if you wanted, I mean. Someone else. You should have him."

Merlin punched Arthur in the face.

*

When Merlin arrived at Camelot court on the arm of King Cendred (his daughter, did he have a daughter? of course he did), Arthur seemed like something vital had been scooped out from inside him. Morgana was drawn and reserved; Gwen stared. Uther was all pleasantness, making the introduction, and as Arthur finally looked at her, really looked at her, Merlin smiled to see his eyes widen.

*

_Merlin said, "No."_

Arthur, fingers on his bloody lip, looked at him with hollow, bleak eyes. "Merlin, please—"

"No," he repeated. "I won't do that." He put on his clothes, tied his neckerchief, laced his boots.

Arthur reached for him. "Don't leave, please don't leave."

Merlin left.

*

The hall was empty but for them. Most inappropriate. But Merlin had grown skilled at manipulating the paths of thought; she had learned so much on her quest, and now she wielded her powers with mastery, never again the bumbling novice chanting away in the physician's spare closet. People who wished to be elsewhere were easily sent away.

"I know you," said Arthur.

Merlin took another small sip of her wine. "Do you?"

Arthur grabbed her, threw her face first into the nearest wall. His body was hot all along Merlin's back, pressing precious flimsy satin into Merlin's skin. "Merlin. How?" he hissed.

Merlin shivered at the familiar feel of his breath, pushed her new body into Arthur's, suddenly different. Taller, broader, _bigger_. "Do you really want to know?"

Helplessly, Arthur rocked forward, gasping open-mouthed kisses against her bare throat. "God. No."

"Good," Merlin whispered, and lifted her skirts.

Arthur groaned and grasped at Merlin's hips as his cock shoved into her. He jerked her back into every thrust, his huge presence stifling and wonderful. Merlin spread her legs and rode into it, just like she used to, let Arthur fuck her against the wall until they both came from it.

"I missed you."

"I love you."

"_Marry me_."

(Neither ever remembered who said what.)

*

They were married in the spring of the next year, a union which brought many self-congratulations on the part of two kings and a great deal of peace between their kingdoms. Everyone called it a most blessed union—the bride and groom so obviously besotted with each other.

They stayed that way until even their happily ever after came to an end, a long, long time later.

END

* * *

**Challenge Eight: Dark!fic **

Thoughts: Love this one. Such a chore to write, but so satisfying in the end. Another one where I like it mostly because of the plot/idea behind it. Warning: Minor character death. Psychological and physical torture.

**The King**

It was cool in the throne room, quiet despite: Arthur, twisting his dagger into his father's belly.

Arthur wondered, through the shock of hot blood on his wrists, how it'd come to this point. What moment caused the snap, could he pinpoint the very beginning of the path ending here? If his father asked, did he have an explanation? So many pieces, memories that flashed out at him—

> 1) Gaius taking him aside a week ago, explaining his birth, the greatest betrayal. All of Arthur's life gaining clarity with his soft, conciliatory words; the knowledge that if Gaius was telling him this now, it meant that even Uther's most loyal friend had lost faith in him; the implications; his father's truest nature laid bare; the chasm of bitterness in Arthur's heart gaping larger.
> 
> 2) The way Merlin sobbed, without restraint, without any kind of dignity left, under Gaius's trembling hands. Weeks of pain Arthur forced himself to witness. It was his fault, his fault, one layer of guilt bricked over another with every new method, forming a towering wall of pressure in his throat, and Merlin's cries ringing in his ears at night, saying, make it right.
> 
> (Merlin drops a jug of wine and stops the fall in midair. Arthur, watching him, leaps to his feet in the middle of the toast, points, shouts. Reaction without thought.)

No, not then. Earlier—

> 3) The haunted look on Gaius' face, his beloved old face, drooping when Uther would not bend. Gaius begging, find someone else, I won't stop it, but don't make me, he is my kin, like a son to me, please don't ask me to, but Uther, implacable, insisting. Consider it a test, old friend, of your loyalty to me. If you refuse, you will die as well as the sorcerer.
> 
> (Merlin doesn't get the stake or the axe, his betrayal is too great. Uther puts him in chains, cuffs made from sacrifice that Uther has kept 'just in case.' Merlin's magic is bound into a burning, painful knot at the base of his spine. Arthur can tell by the way Merlin arches against it, screaming. He knows Merlin's body.
> 
> Torture, Uther decrees. For the snake in the grass, for the rotten worm that infected my court from the center. Unending torture. I want him alive, and feeling every moment of it.)
> 
> Sick horror creeping into Arthur's stomach that hasn't dissipated.

Maybe before that, happier days. Perhaps the seed had been planted before everything had gone to hell.

> 4) The turn of Merlin's head; Merlin's smile, darting wide and sly under teasing eyes; Merlin's hands lingering; Merlin's white neck glistening with lake water, dripping in turn down his chest, his flat, narrow belly, vulnerable; Merlin's mouth opening under his for the first time, drunken fumble, lowered inhibitions, enough that Arthur could do what he'd fantasized for too long, rut them together to a brutal orgasm—
> 
> 5) And the day after, tentative hands on faces. Merlin's smile again, his damned smile overflowing with trust. Arthur's heart clenching up with love as Merlin leaned back and spread his thighs and beckoned, and later Arthur's balls clenching up to spill again, this time deep into Merlin's tight body—
> 
> 6) Merlin, all chapped lips and summer-tanned skin and smelling always of herbs, whispering into the darkness: I love you, I love you, I love you.

That wasn't it at all, push it back, push it back:

> 7) Uther turning away; Uther ignoring him; Uther always busy; Uther, not his father; Uther, the king.

Then again, perhaps it was yesterday:

> 8) Merlin choking out, kill me. His hands scrabbling weakly into Arthur's tunic. Just the two of them alone, Gaius needing a break to vomit or weep or whatever else he did when not torturing his ward. Kill me, please. If you ever..for whatever...

It didn't matter. Uther's eyes were becoming darker, his last gasps given out against Arthur's shoulder. He wasn't asking. Arthur wrapped an arm around his father and held on.

When Uther was still, heavy, Arthur lowered him to the floor. He dragged the body of a rapist from behind a tapestry, where he'd stowed it after hunting the man down the night before, and put the knife in his dead hand, applied his father's blood where it would make best sense. Then he began to yell.

For love, or for the lack of love, Arthur had killed his father.

Arthur, the king.

END

* * *

**Challenge Nine: Outsider Point-of-View**

Thoughts: Never was sure how I felt about this one. It's very...odd. It makes me frown, but then I read a particular turn of words that I like and am okay with it again. It worked a lot better when we didn't know the dragon's name. Warning: sort of implied character death, in the sense that it covers the entire legend.

**Untitled**

I have forgotten my name. It is not such a strange thing. Names are not as important as some make them out to be. Names die.

I do not die.

I span the eons; I am eternal. I am a house of memories, hollow but for the pieces of the world that can fill me. I remember — that is my purpose, and why I am feared so well.

I remember — many things.

> Gyptis, her flowing sunset hair, her choice.  
> The garuda, with their glistening wings and their unbending law.  
> Tapestries woven in the dark.  
> The dank smell of a cave of, chains, hunger, rage, ignorance.

History echoes. Some stories cannot stop, must play out over and over, sucking in small lives and spitting them out shredded or made whole. Powerful events leave imprints and are embedded into the land, the fabric of time. Resonance. I feel such things. I record.

The boy was here when humans had barely begun to know themselves. He was among the first to open his mouth and produce thoughtful sound. He knapped stone into blades and had sharp eyes on the hunt. He had not met the son then.

The first time, the son was not born. He emerged from the earth, rock cracking open like the fragile shell of an egg. The earth — his mother, her deep pools and chasms curve near him always, comfort, protection. The sky — his father, distant, ever-watchful. He is their son, the only one of his kind, as I am the last of mine.

They met lifetimes later, had been moving towards that moment since the shape of their souls became stable. I held my breath; I am not prone to experiencing joy, but those early days — they were full of the promise of story, and I was glad.

Arthur laughed, full and open, a rarity, and when he did it rang through the castle to my ears. I could feel his thoughts, put him together though I'd never seen him. All of history had shown him to be a man of sound and speech, that most human of inventions, came to him as easily as light on his gleaming hair. He mouthed kisses onto Merlin's body in his mind, memorized the ins and outs of Merlin with eyes that turned into hands only in fantasy. He was in love.

Merlin's internal world resembled strange places he had never seen — wide, sweeping mountains with killing mistrals and a sky to fill the vision, fields of flowers soft as down to lie upon. The emotions Arthur wrought in him made it a small, enclosed place: dim yellow light, a bed of scented moss, fresh water trickling in, the ever-expanding sense of — he was in love.

It was not the story I had hoped.

Arthur lied and tied himself in knots for it.

Merlin never invited anyone inside, grew cold.

They missed each other, somehow, and the world was left with the marks of it. Years of longing slipping into the folds of the weave, staining destinies like wine. Hidden agendas, manipulation, betrayal, betrayal after betrayal unfolding into the story until it had to be taken in hand and _ended_ before no one could escape the repetition, before it was too late — the son, back to his birth place, wrapped in his mother's arms — the boy, removed from the cycle of reincarnation until he is necessary again. That is not the way it was supposed to end.

_Arthur and Merlin gasping into each others' open mouths, tongues wet and twisting (Merlin dreamed this) — Arthur sliding fingers into Merlin's slick arse, following with his cock, shoving into the tightness (Arthur dreamed this) — Merlin easing his cock into Arthur's waiting mouth (Merlin) — Arthur tasting the small of Merlin's back, and maybe further (Arthur) — Holding on, holding —_

I am not meant to judge.

Someday the earth will open again; someday Avalon will release its prisoner.

Maybe next time they will get it right.

(I think they might recall my name.)

END

* * *

**Challenge Ten: Threesome**

Thoughts: I love threesomes! This was a great excuse to write one. Kay is, like, my default knight when I need to insert one (this was before the days of our lovely Leon). This is just porn, and snarky!Arthur, and I like it fairly well.

**Indiscreet, Indelicate, Indecent (In Love)**

Merlin couldn't be more indiscreet if he was trying, and Kay has never been known as the most intellectual of Knights, but really, Arthur expected better than to return early from a two week patrol and find them fucking in his own room.

On his bloody table, no less. Kay has Merlin bent over, gripping the opposite side, is fucking into him brutally while Merlin moans like a three-farthing whore. Arthur's supposed to _eat_ there.

This entirely inappropriate affair has been going on for too long and frankly, Arthur is sick of dealing with it. Merlin's been nothing short of _totally useless_ since it began, complaining about the time, wincing slightly when he bends, rubbing his fingers over still-red lips. It's enough to make a man nauseous.

"All right," snaps Arthur. "I have had it up to _here_," he throws a hand over his head, "with your indelicacy. Kay, get off my manservant. For god's sake, Merlin, have some dignity, you sound like a complete slag."

Kay flings himself off Merlin with the kind of speed Arthur would like to see applied to his duties. Kay's cock, sliding out of Merlin, makes a stomach-clenching-ly slick sound.

"Your highness, sire, I'm, we didn't, sorry—" Kay babbles.

Merlin merely turns and scoots to sit—sit! With his wet, open arse all over Arthur's _place of eating_—on the edge of the table, saying, "I do not. Besides, you're just jealous."

"Jealous over _you_?" and if his voice is a little shrill, it's because Merlin is breaking every law of decency he knows. "That's insane, you're insane, and an idiot, and, and absolutely _indecent_, put some goddamn clothes on!"

Kay gives him a shrewd look; Arthur scowls.

Merlin pouts some more, not fetchingly at all. "Come on, be a mate. We haven't done yet, can't you just...come back in ten minutes?"

Arthur gapes at him, awed by Merlin's utter lack of intellect and propriety.

"Or," says Kay, obviously having a greater sense of self-preservation, "you could join us."

Merlin's eyebrows lift. He looks Arthur over from head to foot in a way that goes straight to Arthur's groin, then smiles. "Or that. That's a fantastic idea."

Some part of Arthur's mind gutters like a candle in a strong wind and goes out, and it must show on his face because Kay slips behind him and begins stripping away his tunic without another word. Merlin slides off the table and kneels in front of Arthur with a wicked look, going straight for his belt.

Arthur has to lean back against Kay or fall down when Merlin sucks his cock down his throat, practiced and easy and so _good_. Kay tugs at his nipples, the feel of his grin smug against Arthur's nape.

Merlin's got his eyes open, is looking up at Arthur even as his lips nestle into the wiry hair at the base of Arthur's cock; he looks amused and turned-on, comfortable. Arthur jerks forward a little, can't stop himself from nudging deeper, want to knows just how much practice Merlin has at this, can he make it as good as Arthur has imagined?

"He's got a hot little mouth, doesn't he, sire?" Kay says. "Wet and tight like his arse."

Merlin pulls off, dodging Arthur's clutching hands, to say, "My arse would like some attention."

Kay laughs, then murmurs against Arthur's ear, "Do you want to fuck him?"

Arthur pants out a yes, and Merlin is climbing onto the bed, on his hands in knees. Arthur stares at the pink stretch of his hole, still smeared with oil, at the hands pulling apart his pale arsecheeks, and sways dangerously, only realizing then that Kay has left him, Kay is the one opening Merlin up like an offering.

Arthur manages the few steps needed to close the distance, to get his saliva-slick cock in hand and line up, manages to _push_ inside, into Merlin's shuddering body until he can't get any deeper, but doesn't manage to stop his heart from squeezing.

Merlin makes little keening moans as Arthur fucks him, the same moans he made for Kay earlier, until Kay hoists his chin up and silences them with his cock. Then Merlin is licking sloppily, hands on Kay's thighs, and shoving back onto Arthur's cock, sucking and fucking like he was made to do it, like he wants nothing more than to be worked this way until he's a blissed-out, ridiculous mess.

Arthur comes, holding back so many words it makes his head ache.

END

* * *

**Unknown #11**

Thoughts: Not sure what this is. It's in my Pornathon folder, so it must be from the 2009 Pthon, but it's not an entry. I've included it anyway, since I'm pretty confident in my organizing/filing skills. Maybe it was comment porn written for a party? I'm really really not sure. I tend to write a lot of comment porn and then totally forget about it. Does anyone remember anything to do with pick-up lines? I have the vaguest memory, but I don't know...

**Fic with Excessive Use of Pick-Up Lines In It**

"It seems as if my dragon has finally found a," Arthur's hand slides down and over Merlin's arse, grips one cheek and _squeezes_, "nice _cave_ to rest in."

"Oh, haha, very original," Merlin says. "Unhand me, pratface."

"But Merlin," Arthur leans forward, breath hot, "Don't you want to see my longsword in action?"

"You mean the one I spent all day polishing?" Merlin retorts, twisting out of Arthur's grabby, obnoxious hands.

Gareth, the only knight still not asleep in his cups, chuckles drunkenly but doesn't open his eyes.

"I wish," says Arthur.

"Right, I don't know what's gotten into you," says Merlin (really, Arthur hadn't even had that much to drink), "but it's late, and I'm going to bed. Good night, sire."

He gets to the door, he's got the bloody knob in his hand, when Arthur says, "You know, your chastity belt would look fantastic on my floor," and Merlin has to turn back because: what?

"Chastity belt?" Merlin asks, glaring. "I'm no _maid_, you pig-faced dolt."

Arthur is—Arthur is far too fast for a man tits-up. He's up and across the room, crowding Merlin up against the door, licking his lips and saying, "Prove it," before Merlin can flee.

Merlin swallows. Arthur is too _close_ again, with that insufferable smirk on his insufferable face, the one that makes Merlin want to do stupid, stupid things just to show Arthur how incredibly wrong-headed he is. Like that day in the market, like he's about to do _right now_.

"Fine," he says. "Fine," and yanks Arthur down for a kiss.

Arthur's mouth doesn't taste like liquor, strangely, and he doesn't pull away like Merlin expected. He kisses back eagerly, meeting Merlin's mouth with his own already parting. Merlin licks inside, past Arthur's teeth. The slick, filthy slide of tongue on tongue sends an unexpected jolt into his cock, makes his hips jerk forward and—

And, Arthur's cock is hard against his own, hot even through the fabric separating them. Merlin should be startled, embarrassed, a bluff called and taken too far but instead he thinks about having it, Arthur's cock, in his hand, in his mouth. Thinks of shoving Arthur down to the floor and really, truly showing the prat what it means to fuck. He could teach Arthur a thing or two about unlocking chastity belts.

Merlin tugs the hem of Arthur's tunic out of his breeches and pushes his hands underneath, up the long, smooth columns of muscle in Arthur's back. Arthur shivers, pulls back a bit, probably to breathe but Merlin won't let him, bites Arthur's bottom lip to keep him close. Arthur lets out a shaky gasp, palms Merlin's hips, and Merlin wants to feel his hands again, on his arse and up inside. Arthur's fingers tracing his hole, getting him open and ready.

Merlin sucks Arthur's tongue into his mouth on a groan, lets his jaw fall open so Arthur can taste him good and deep, a spit-wet, dirty kiss that's only pleasant so long as the arousal is thrumming like fire through his veins. Arthur's obliging for once; he cups Merlin's arse, just where thigh meets cheek, and rocks them together, hard cocks jockeying for pressure in the cradle of each other's hips. Maybe they'll get off like this, like mere boys in a sunny summer glade.

Their teeth clack. Merlin feels like he can't get enough air, Arthur's everywhere, his tongue on the roof of Merlin's mouth, his knee shoving between Merlin's legs, his chest pushed against Merlin's and rising fast. They need to—

"Mmm, fuck, now," Merlin mumbles against Arthur's lips.

"Hey!" says Gareth. "You're kissing!"

"Fuck," Arthur says, though not exactly in the tone Merlin might have hoped for.

Arthur steps away from Merlin, too far away, and glares at Gareth. "No, we're not. You're drunk, you fool. Go to bed."

Gareth passes out on command as any well-trained knight should.

Merlin looks at Arthur; Arthur looks at Merlin.

"So, uh," Merlin says. "Your room or mine?"

END

* * *

THE END


End file.
